


when you bleed for me

by PoemIsDead



Category: JackSepticEye (YouTube RPF), Markiplier (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Blood, Blood Kink, Blood and Violence, Dubious Consent, Forced Orgasm, Hand Jobs, Humiliation, Knifeplay, M/M, there's blood guys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-08
Updated: 2018-02-08
Packaged: 2019-03-14 01:10:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13582827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PoemIsDead/pseuds/PoemIsDead
Summary: "Justlookat you. Theall powerful Darkiplier, stuck like a fly in a honey trap. Helpless.Useless." His hand came out, the virus focusing to stop the giddy glitching so he could run fingers through his hair, pet the creature like the sad little puppy it was. "Did you need help,Darky. Want yer old friend Anti to give yeh a hand? Yeh just gotta ask. Ask me nice, Darky, ask me to help, I will-"-----Anti catches Dark in a compromising position and decides to have some fun.





	when you bleed for me

**Author's Note:**

> This work is inspired by YourDarkPassenger's [Edge of a Knife](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13538634) and watercolorwoods' [thin red line](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13259193/chapters/30334050) \- both excellent fics I would highly suggest checking them out~
> 
> Wrote this as a little gift for Kate (watercolorwoods), and I hope you appreciate this, love, because I had to swallow some hella Dark pride for this ;___; This is my first time writing Anti, and both of the inspired fics contain far superior portrayals, but hopefully he's enjoyable ;)
> 
> General warning - please read the tags, guys. This is so bloody, I'm not even joking.
> 
> Beta'd by the lovely [tfwfangirlsatk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tfwfangirlsatk), as always ;)

Anti experienced excitement on a daily basis. There was so much of it to be had, after all. The feel of his knife, supple and sweet in his hands. The look of fear sparkling in the eyes of a piece of chattel. The succulent screams of those under his hands, as the blood rushed, and gushed, and coated him in that delicious warm wetness, spreading across his skin as his frayed body glitched under it. Ecstasy, a life of satisfaction and entertainment, that's what he lived.

But never had he experienced an excitement like this.

He'd tasted it the moment he came here, back to this house, just another cookie-cutter dwelling in a mundane part of some town Anti had never bothered to learn the name of. Nothing to a human - just wood and plaster and paint and some housewife's dream. But no one lived here. No one ever would. Not with what was here. Not with the broken line running through it, sick power crackling across it like static. Not a break in the world, but a crack that led nowhere, an emptiness that was a thing, an entity . . . or something. Anti didn't give it a name. He couldn't be asked.

But he came back, from time to time, to taste the air and see what had fallen victim to the thing. Because demons and humans had at least one thing in common - they were stupid. Stupid little greedy worms, walking giddy to their deaths like lambs to the slaughter, and nothing amused the virus quite so much as watching greedy little fools get what was coming to them.

Well, nothing that didn't involve his knife, at least.

But this. Oh, this was . . . beyond words. This was too good. This was _stupidly_ good, and he felt an ecstatic energy rushing through him, his frame glitching and stretching and jumping as he prowled into the house, cackling with wicked mirth as his eyes fell to the hunched shape before him.

Dark. Stupid little Dark. Stupid, arrogant, _powerful_ Dark, on his knees, hand clutching the wall as black eyes watched the glitch draw closer, and god, if he could just set a wallpaper for his life it would be this picture here.

"You _idiot_ ," he crowed, the words drawn out and skipping harshly as his unbridled joy destabilized his body, form jumping and skittering around the edges as momentarily black eyes fell to the creature laid out like a goddamn plate of hors-d'oeuvre before him. "Did yeh really think _you_ could take it? _You?_ "

And he was cackling again, the mirth running through his veins like electricity as he stopped a few paces from him, form jumping and breaking and glitching around him. He was like a child on Christmas morning, come downstairs to find his gifts under the tree, only he only had one, and it was _the best ever_.

Oh, what a delight. What an _absolute delight_. He'd never expected the almighty _Darkiplier_ to come here, to attempt to best the thing. Probably looking to destroy the opposing void, or absorb it, or whatever the fuck voids did to each other, it didn't matter. He should have known better. This one was too fresh, too raw and powerful, and even a child should have known better. How _stupid_ of him. How monumentally stupid.

But Dark was _nothing_ if not arrogant. He shouldn't be surprised at all, honestly. Anything to boost his pretty little ego. Stupid little shit. He was powerful, there was no arguing that, as much as Anti hated it. Any other demon would have been destroyed immediately, ripped to shreds and scattered to the winds like the trash they were. But since it was _Dark_ he was only . . . incapacitated.

Incapacitated. An adjective, meaning at Anti's mercy.

"What have yeh done to yerself, _Darky_ ," he crooned as he leaned forward, black eyes drinking in the demon's shattered form, auras frayed and ripped around him as he struggled against the impossible weight. He probably couldn't talk, or at least Anti assumed. He liked his pretty words, and he hadn't spit any yet, so it was likely the fight was taking too much out of him to waste energy on something as simple as conversation. Anti could taste it, the broken energy around him, shattered and writhing, but no longer what it had been before. Broken, but not beaten. Twisted up in Dark, as if with knives at each other's throat, and he wasn't getting out of this without help.

And wasn't that just the sweetest thing?

Anti cackled again, lower this time as he leaned forward to bring his face level with Dark's, inches away, smiling and flickering as he watched the rage twist across that pretty face.

"Just _look_ at you. The _all powerful Darkiplier_ , stuck like a fly in a honey trap. Helpless. _Useless_." His hand came out, the virus focusing to stop the giddy glitching so he could run fingers through his hair, pet the creature like the sad little puppy it was. "Did you need help, _Darky_. Want yer old friend Anti to give yeh a hand? Yeh just gotta ask. Ask me nice, Darky, ask me to help, I will-"

The force hit him hard, not across his skin but _inside him_ , dragging at his reservoirs, yanking him across the room and away from the enraged creature. He could feel the tremulous power echoing through the air as his twitching form righted itself easily, the taste familiar and spicy. Dark, but oh was it weak. Nothing compared to what he could do. What he _had_ done. He was so _weak_. Anti could feel the excitement shooting through his veins, giving him that high, and he arched at the orgasmic feeling.

" _That's it?_ " he laughed, high and cruel, prowling back towards Dark with a twisted grin. "That's all yeh can manage? Yeh couldn't even get me across the room, Darky. How _pathetic_."

Anti was in front of him again, hand darting out to grab a fistful of that stupid fringe, yanking the demon's head back so he could stare down into his hate-filled eyes. The rage on his face was almost like a palpable thing, like a mask across his skin, or blood pouring from his pores, steaming, hot and angry and metallic, and Anti relished the taste on his tongue, almost as much as the real thing, because it was all of it _impotent_. He couldn't do a goddamn thing.

"Now Dark," he crooned, his voice high and crackling as he brought the knife, like an extension of his hand, up to brush along his cheek, across his pretty face, the one he was oh so proud of, and Anti loved how those black eyes darted to it, rage and something else flashing through them as he seethed in his struggle. "Let's play nice."

The virus smiled, sweet and wide, before he slashed out to rip a line from his eye to his jaw, fast and practiced, just to see the way the gray skin split open to that void.

Except it wasn't that impossible blackness the skin ripped open to. It wasn't emptiness and power bubbling under his skin.

It was blood. Hot and fresh and _beautiful_ , seeping from the thin line to slip down the gray skin of his face, the color bright and gorgeous against it, and Anti was groaning, his voice picking up, distorted and static and oh so pleased.

"Oh, _Dark_ ," he purred, the words low, twisted, sweet, and he was shaking now, fragmented in his giddy excitement as he watched the thick red liquid drip from his cheek. "You messed up, didn't you? Oh, you messed up. You messed up, you messed up, _you messed up_ -"

Over and over, like broken audio, perfectly the same as the sound cracked and splintered, and he watched the rage in Dark's empty eyes as he seethed, _so helpless_. He could have done it for hours, just watching the way the demon boiled uselessly like a dog at his feet as he taunted him just like this, he was oh, so _tempted_. But the blood, oh that pretty red shine across his face, the possibilities were just _endless_.

Anti licked his lips, quick, static playing across his face, and his arm jittered harshly as he brought the knife back, trailing it up Dark's bare throat, the tip bouncing against his Adam's apple. He couldn't quite kill him like this. He wasn't that naive, and he wasn't going to waste this opportunity by just slashing his throat and being done with it, despite how the thought made him tingle in delicious ways. No, there were better memories he could make with this knife, and this poor, defenseless Dark.

He moved quick, frame glitching as he drew himself forward, almost against the demon's frayed form, and brought the knife down to hook into the collar of that stupid suit. Who wanted to wear a suit all the time anyway? Impractical. Only someone so pathetic as _Dark_ , someone with an ego that had to be fueled by fear and intimidation, who needed the world to know _what a badass_ he was. Pretty and perfect, and yes, oh so scary.

_Pathetic._

The suit shredded easily in the path of his sweet blade, and Anti jerked it harshly down, knowing it was too deep, too rough, and he was laughing, or groaning, he honestly couldn't tell.

Dark made a noise when he yanked the knife back, something low and primal, and Anti laughed higher, cackling as his hand tangled itself in his hair once more, yanking his head back, watching the red streaks make their way down his throat. And then because it was _too good_ he shoved him back further, baring his neck harshly, despite the resistance from the kneeling demon. Dark was usually _iron_ , but now he bent like aluminum, and Anti felt giddy as he leaned down to run his tongue up the red trail, tasting the bitter liquid, like the sweetest nectar. Up his throat, over his chin, across his cheek, scraping against the wound, teasing it to draw another rush of blood, and it was like goddamn crack cocaine.

Dark's face had pulled back in a snarl, but Anti only ran his fingers through his hair with that giddy grin, his knife slipping under the tattered remains of his suit to push them away, baring his chest to the cool air.

"What's wrong, _Dark_? Hmm? You seem . . . upset," he grinned, his face freezing and twitching in his excitement. "About something. Did you wanna talk about it?"

Anti released his hair to run his hand down his chest, pushing away the last remnants of the suit and looking down to appreciate the bright canvas before him. All that _skin_. Under his hands. His knife. His, his, _his_ , _HIS_.

The hand at his chest whipped up to catch the void by the throat, watching the way his eyes flashed with fury, squeezing just enough to see the way the veins popped and strained under his hand. He yanked him up, forward, off his knees only to throw him against the wall with enough force to send cracks skittering across the paint, the drywall. And Dark didn't make a goddamn peep, his jaw still straining as he fought against the pressure Anti could still taste on him, and the virus was laughing as he stepped forward to straddle his splayed legs.

"Did yeh want something, _Dark_. A little help, perhaps? Anti's here to help. All you have to do is _ask_." Each word was slow, drawn out and high as he fought to keep himself from shattering across the mirth. "Just ask me, Dark. Just ask me teh help yeh. Just say those words . . ."

Anti leaned forward, visage flickering as he brought his lips to Dark's ear, and whispered the words.

"'Help me, Anti.' Just say it, Dark. Say my name. Beg me teh help you, you pathetic little void."

And Anti would, if he asked. But Dark would never do it now. Never, ever. He had too much _pride_ to stoop that low, and Anti would be disappointed if he did, because oh, this could be so much _fun_.

"No? Don't want my help, Darky?" he asked, still pressed up close, knees digging into his hips. He leaned in a little closer, dipping his head to bring his lips to the other's throat, just letting his breath wash across the skin for a moment before he lashed out with sharp teeth, biting quick, splitting skin, drawing blood, tasting the ecstasy on his tongue, before continuing in a breathless whisper. "Or did yeh just like this too much?"

The fury poured off the creature in waves. But it was useless, helpless, impotent. He was still stuck, still at Anti's mercy, and the virus cackled as his hand went back to his chest, smoothing a palm across it before drawing back to look down at it with greedy eyes.

"Don't worry, Dark. I'm gonna do somethin' yeh'll never forget. Yer gonna remember this, this little _mistake_ , fer the rest of yer pitiful life. Yer gonna remember it, 'cause I'm gonna _carve it into yer goddamn chest_."

The blade whipped out to press against his chest, just the tip, pressing into his gray, flickering skin, and Anti watched the way the creature's auras flickered around him, raging, cracking, but faint and weak and _stupid little Dark_ \- he couldn't do a thing to stop this.

The first cut felt like ecstasy, chasing through his veins like a drug, rushing as the blood pooled against the knife, and dripped down that perfect monochrome chest, and he twisted the blade at the end, making a little accent, a serif on the letter just to relish the feel of the first cut a little longer.

"I wish I could hear yeh scream fer me," he purred as he finally brought the knife away, positioning it for the next line, taking his time as he worked, wanting it to look perfect. Messy and bloody and tattered and torn, but _perfect_. "Hear that stony voice _howling_ for me, wouldn't that be pretty, Dark?"

"I would _never_ scream for you, _glitch_."

The voice surprised him. Strained and stretched, pained and furious, rage on his tongue like sugar, and Anti laughed his cruel laugh, shivering as his body shattered and glitched over the demon's lap. That had probably taken a _tremendous_ amount of energy, to pull away from his fight long enough to put the energy into that. If it were true, he wouldn't have to say it. If it were true, he wouldn't feel the need to justify himself. Silly little fool.

"Really, Darky? You don't want teh scream for me?" he drew the knife down harder this time, deeper, and the blood flowed freely, messy over his chest, and Anti ran his free hand through it, fingers playing in the red liquid, and smearing it in sloppy circles like he was painting with finger paints. "I want yeh teh scream fer me. I want yeh to scream my name so pretty."

And then the image flashed through his mind, Dark's face all twisted up, stupid and helpless, his name on his lips, and he was breathing harder, the excitement picking up as he let his bloody hand trail down the gray body before him, painting him red. He wanted to see that - Dark _wrecked_ , Dark ruined and humiliated, Dark turned into the little bitch he was, and Anti was licking his lips as he brought a freshly clawed hand to shred through the void's neat dress pants.

"I'll make yeh scream fer me, Darky. Would yeh like that? Would you, you pathetic little bitch?"

The auras flashed again, cracking around him angry and writhing, but Anti didn't flinch, knew he was helpless, weak, pitiful, as he dragged his blade down in the next line, loving the crooked letter as he moved towards the next. His bloody hand was ripping at the remnants of the suit around his hips, clawed finger flicking across the waistband of his underwear, and then that was gone to, and god, he thought this couldn't get _any better_ but this was like he'd gotten his birthday present early too.

Anti howled with laughter, throwing his head back as he cackled, even the air around him fraying with his joy as his frame shattered only to rebuild itself. So perfect. So _perfect_.

"You little _liar_ ," he crowed as he wrapped his hands around the semi-hard length, grinning his face-splitting grin as he leaned in closer, breathing hard and giddy as he watched that all-consuming rage racing across Dark's face. "Liar, liar, _liar_ , Dark, yeh shouldn't lie, little liar, filthy little liar."

The words were echoing in the room now as his own aura cracked and crackled, repeated and broken - _liar, liar, liar_ \- a fresh ambiance, a musical accompaniment to his ecstasy as he drew the next rough line through his skin. One hand drawing pain, the other pleasure, and he watched the fury flash in those helpless eyes.

It felt like the world had stilled around him as he carved his name so pretty into that stony chest. The blood itself was artwork, making its own lines and shapes against the gray skin, crawling across his body, like a living thing, choosing it's path down across his form, twisting and turning and shining so heavy, and those red, ragged lines scrawling those letters, and the feeling of the shaft in his hand growing heavier with each ruthless stroke, slick and sticky from the blood he'd dragged down, and everything was just _perfect_.

The last line felt bittersweet. It completed the picture, lovely, elegant, _rough_ , just the right amount of broken. A mark of Anti carved into Dark, and Anti smiled fondly at the four jagged letters.

But they wouldn't be permanent. Dark would heal, once he was free. He'd put himself back together and erase the lines from his body. But their ghost would always be there, and Anti drank in the site hungrily, storing it away to overlay it across his form when he saw him again. No matter what Dark was, no matter his power and his rage, no matter what he did from this day forward, he would _always_ have Anti's name carved across his chest, above his heart, above his black soul, whether physically or not, and _nothing_ would ever change that.

"Don't you look _pretty_ ," Anti sighed, twitching faintly as he relaxed into his lap, bloody hand still doing its work, and drank in the sight. The void was breathing hard, too far removed from his own body to stop the ragged breaths wracking through him, and he could feel the way he was straining, _shaking_ beneath him. "Pretty little branded bitch, aren't you?"

Dark's lips pulled back at that, baring his teeth, but it was all he could manage with that aching thing twisting through him, and Anti laughed, leaning forward to run his tongue across the wound on his cheek once more. He teased it open, turning to drag his teeth over it, biting down to split it once more and breathing in the sharp metallic scent as Dark's auras flickered around him - black and blue and red, and useless.

The knife was gone from his hand for a moment, freeing it to run his palm across his masterpiece, loving the slick, ragged feel beneath his palm. He slid the warmth across his chest, painting red across his ruined pecs, down his stomach, over his shoulders, and then up to his neck, drawing a sloppy line across his throat, right where he would cut him, and didn't he look a right mess now? His gray flickering form covered in red smears, some faint, some bright, and those harsh letters in his skin, his clothes in tatters and his cock in Anti's hand, and he'd ruined him, he'd _ruined him_.

"Yer mine now, Dark," he told him, his voice cracking low as he leaned in close to breathe across his cheek. "All . . . mine. I marked yeh. I put my name in yeh. And yer _mine now_."

A low sound rumbled through Dark's throat, like a growl, or a groan, primal and deep and dark, and Anti grinned as he stroked him, licking his lips, giddy, happy, _perfect_. He could feel him tensing under him, and he knew it was time, time to wrap things up, finish his masterpiece, and his fun, and he sighed before his hand whipped out to bury itself in Dark's throat.

His green, flickering flesh passed through Dark's skin like a ghost, glitching and snapping as Anti reached for that thing twisted up inside him, wrapping his hand, his aura, around it, mustering his own considerable strength as he looked Dark in the eyes. So hot and angry and helpless, and he gave him his sweetest grin, too wide across his face, as he leaned forward, close enough to brush his lips against the void's.

"Time teh cum fer me, Darky."

 _There it was._ That's what he wanted to see. Dark's face twisted up, hot and angry, rage simmering off him in palpable waves even as his weak, mortal body betrayed him, and his lips pulled back to bare those shiny teeth again, the expression of a wild animal, cornered and angry and afraid, hatred in every line of his face even as his body tensed and shuddered and did as Anti bid.

And as he spilled across his hand, like the shameful little pathetic creature he was, Anti rewarded him, the hand clutched the writhing thing within him finally, _finally_ wrenching it away from the void, and Dark was free.

It was like he'd cut the strings of a puppet. He slumped against the wall like a corpse, limp, boneless, his head falling forward against his bloody chest, and for a moment Anti wondered idly if he was actually dead, as he flashed back to his feet. Wonder if the thing he didn't have a name for had done something, and _actually_ killed the demon.

Silly to hope, but there it was. He was motionless only a moment before Anti caught sight of the heave in his chest, the shudder that ran through him, and then he raised his head, just a little, to glare with exhausted eyes at the virus.

Exhausted brown eyes, as it were.

His auras were gone, vanished with the nameless thing, and before him lay what was basically a human. Pitiful and weak, all colored and solid and boring, and Anti was laughing again, ecstatic, euphoric as he reached out with his lovely blade to brush his dark fringe from his eyes.

Dark hair messy, one cheek a bloody mess, the other holding a high blush, tan chest ruined and tattered, like his suit, legs splayed out, softening cock sticky with blood and cum, and _mess_ was too clean a word for what he was. He was _wrecked_. Anti had wrecked him. Exactly like he wanted.

"Disgusting," he said, his voice sounding like he thought it anything but, and he smiled down at the man on the floor, meeting his tired eyes around the line of his blade.

A beautiful, disgusting mess.

"Put yourself back together, _Damien_ ," he shot as he flicked the knife out, catching one last shallow cut across his other cheek, before he glitched across the room, back at the door, hand against the frame as he looked back with a bloody grin. "I'll be waiting."

And with that, he whipped out of the house, flickering out into the world once more with a metaphorical skip to his step, leaving nothing behind but his echoing laughter in the dead house.


End file.
